9. Lizzie
CHAPTER 9
Lizzie
G eorge chatters beside me but I barely catch a word of it. I don’t care what he says. All I care about is remembering Emile’s face when I left.
I swear he looked like he wanted to call me back. But maybe I’m just projecting my own pain on him.
I desperately wanted to stay. Wanted him to call me back. Tell me he loves me and he’s just an idiot.
But he didn’t. He let me go. And that right there says it all. My ex didn’t want me. Emile doesn’t want me. Right now the only man that does is George and I could care less. His folksy laugh and big smile just make me cringe. I’m not interested in George. Not even as a friend.
I drop my head to the window and watch the forest go past us, watching the endless trees and occasional breaks that show the cliffs that the road perches on precariously.
“I’m so sorry that I lost you. Trust me, I’ll never do that again.”
Cringing, I grunt an answer. I don’t want him to watch me. Don’t want him to find me. I want Emile.
But he doesn’t want me. And that fucking hurts worse than my ex idiot fucking his secretary and telling me he wanted a real woman.
I am a real woman. A real woman with needs and wants. Needs that Emile fills admirably. I flush when I think of him driving into me. When I remember how his beard felt between my thighs. I can still feel the rash on my skin, sensitizing it to the rub of my pants and panties.
I feel the well of tears again and struggle not to wail like a child. I barely cried over what’s his face. But Emile who I just met? I want to curl up in a corner and wail like a baby.
I can feel his arms around me, holding me tight. I felt safe. Felt at home. Felt like I belonged for the first time in my life.
“George,” I whisper. “Stop the car.”
“Hmmm.” He looks over at me and his eyes widen. “Are you gonna be sick?”
“No. I need to go back.”
“But…”
“No.” I shake my head. “I need to go back to Emile.”
“What?” His mouth drops open and then he jerks at the wheel as we hear a horn behind us, over and over. He pulls over to the side and the other vehicle blocks us in. Emile jumps out of the old truck and I scramble to get out of the SUV.
We meet halfway and I leap on him, crying.
“I’m so sorry, baby girl. I’m a damn stubborn idiot. I love you so much. I couldn’t let you go. I should because you deserve so much more than me.” His mouth drops little kisses all over my face and hair as he rambles.
I shake my head. “No! I don’t deserve another man. I deserve the man I love and that’s you. I love you so much, Emile. I can’t leave you. Please don’t make me,” I cry, tears dripping down my chin.
He lifts my chin and he kisses my tears softly. “I can’t make you leave. If you leave, you take my heart with you and it’s barely healed now. If I let you go, I’ll never recover. Please stay. We’ll work on getting you here. I’ll come to the states. I don’t care as long as I’m with you. My heart is yours, dented, bruised and broken, but it’s all yours.”
I smile mistily up at him. “Mine isn’t perfect. It’s been beaten a bit too. But you make me feel like there’s more out there for me. A life and a love that belongs to me. Only me.”
“Only you,” he agrees. “Will you come back with me and the dog?” The pup prances back and forth beside us, yapping like our own personal little matchmaker.
I giggle and pull his lips down to mine. “I would love to come with you. Over and over again.”
He draws in a deep breath and glares at George. “I’ll be by to get her things in a few days. Until then, don’t call.”
And he slings me over his shoulder as I giggle wildly. I wave at George who stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Bye, George!” I call, laughing.
Emile tosses me in the truck and the dog hops on me, licking my face.
“We need to name him.”
“We’ll find something.” His eyes meet mine and he groans. “Fuck, I love you, baby girl. I never thought I’d find a woman that would make me feel the things I feel for you. I never loved my ex because the things I felt for her are about as tiny as a pinprick compared to what I feel for you.”
“Same,” I whisper. “Now get me home and make love to me like you can’t live without me because I sure as hell can’t live without you.”
“Same,” he growls.
We hold hands the whole way back and I can’t stop the overwhelming rush of love that I feel for this man with the navy eyes and broad shoulders. The damaged heart that beats to match mine. Two broken, beaten people who managed to find exactly what they needed in each other and the Canadian wild.